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ment of your honours; so your servant. Sirrah, | ous of Violetta ! that grateful woman has been I shall find a time for you.
warm in her commendations of me, and her dis[BELFIELD is going out. tempered fancy turns that candour into criminaIron. Hark'e, sir, come back; one more word lity.
Sophia. Ha! he seems confounded ! guilty Bel. sen. Well, sir
beyond all doubt. Iron. Your father was an honest gentleman : Bel. jun By Heaven I'll no longer be the dupe your mother, though I say it, that should not say to these bad humours ! Lucy Waters, Violetta, it, was an angel; my eyes ache when I speak of every woman she sees or hears, alarms her jeaher : ar'n't you ashamed, sirrah, to disgrace such lousy, overthrows my hopes, and rouses every parents? My nephew Bob, your brother, is as passion into fury. Well, madam, at length I see honest a lad, and as brave, as ever stept between what you allude to; I shall follow your advice, stem and stern; a' has a few faults indeed, as and consult my Violetta; nay, more, consult my who is free? But you, Andrew, you are as false happiness ; for with her, at least, I shall find reas a quick-sand, and as full of mischief as a file pose; with you, I plainly see, there can be none. ship.
Sophia. 'T'is very well, sir; the only favour Bel. sen. Captair. Ironsides, I have but little you can now grant me, is never to let me see time to bestow on you; if you have nothing else you again ; for, after what has passed between to entertain me with, the sooner we part the bet- us, every time you intrude into my company, you
will commit an insult upon good breeding and Iron. No, sir, one thing more, and I have done humanity. with you. They tell me you're parliament-man Bel. jun. Madam, I'll take care to give you here for the borough of Knavestown: the Lord no further offence.
. have mercy upon the nation, when such fellows
Sophia. Oh! my poor heart will break ! as thou art are to be our law-makers—For my
Enter SIR BENJAMIN Dove. own part, I can shift ; I'll take shipping, and live in Lapland, and be dry nurse to a bear, rather Sir Ben. Hey-day, Sophia, what's the matter? than dwell in a country where I am to be govern- What ails my child? Who has offended you? ed by such a thing as thou art.
Did not I see the younger Belfield part from you Bel. sen. By your manners, I should guess you just now? had executed that office already: however, lose Sophia. O, sir! if you have any love for me, no time, fit out a new Charming Sally, and set don't name that base, treacherous wretch, to me sail for Lapland; 'tis the properest place for any more.
(Erit. you to live in, and a bear the fittest companion Sir Ben. Upon my word, I am young Mr Belfor you to keep
field's most obsequious servant ! a very notable (Ereunt Belfield and Paterson. confusion truly has be been pleased to make in Iron. Hark'e, Philip? I forgot to ask what all my family! Lady Dove raves, Sophia cries; my this stir was about.
wife calls him a saucy, impudent fellow; my Phi. Sir, if you please to walk in, I will in- daughter says he's a base, treacherous wretch;
from all which I am to conclude, that he has Iron. With all my heart. A pragmatical, im- spoke too plain truths to the one, and told too pertinent coxcomb! Come, master, we'll fill a many lies to the other. One lady is irritated be pipe, and hear the lad's story within doors. I cause he has refused favours; the other, pernever yet was ashamed of my profession, and I'll haps, is afflicted because he has obtained them. take care my profession shall have no reason to Lady Dove has peremptorily insisted upon my be ashamed of me. [Exeunt. giving him a challenge ; but, to say the truth
, I had no great stomach to the business, till this SCENE III.
fresh provocation. I perceive now, I am grow
ing into a most unaccountable rage; 'tis some Enter BelField jun. and Sophia.
thing so different from what I ever felt before, Bel. jun. Madam, madam, will you not vouch- that, for what I know, it may be courage, and safe to give me a hearing ?
I mistake it for anger. I never did quarrel with Sophia. Unless you could recal an act, no any man, and, hitherto, no man ever quarrelled earthly power can cancel, all attempt at explana- with me. Egad, if once I break the ice, it shan't tion is vain.
stop here: if
young Belfield doesn't prove me Bel. jun. Yet, before we part for ever, ob coward, lady Ďove shall see that I ain a man of stinate, inexorable Sophia ! tell me what is my spirit.-Sure I see my gentleman coming hither offence ?
again. Sophia. Answer yourself that question, Mr Beltield; consult your own heart; consult your
Enter BelFIELD jun. Violetta,
Bel. jun. Wbat meanness, what infatuation Bel. jun. Now, on my life, she's meanly jeal- possesses me, that I should resolve to throw my
self once more in her way! but she's gone, and I injured in this matter, and, as such, have a right yet I may escape with credit.
to be in a passion; but I see neither right nor Sir Ben. Ay, there he is, sure enough: by the reason why you, who have done the wrong, should mass, I don't like him : I'll listen awhile, and dis- be as angry as Í, who have received it. cover what sort of a humour he is in.
Bel. jun. I suspect I have totally mistaken this Bel. jun. I am ashamed of this weakness : I honest gentleman; he only wants to build some am determined to assume a proper spirit, and reputation with his wife upon this rencounter, act as becomes a man upon this occasion. and 'twould be inhuman not to gratify him. Sir Ben. Upon iny soul I'm very sorry for it!
[Aside. Bel. jun. Now am I so distracted between Sir Ben. What shall I do now? Egad I seem love, rage, and disappointment, that I could find to have posed him : this plaguy sword sticks so in my heart to sacrifice her, myself, and all man- hard in the scabbard-Well, come forth, rapier; kind.
'tis but one thrust; and what should a man fear, Sir Ben. Lord have mercy upon us ! I'd bet- that has lady Dove for his wife? ter steal off, and leave him to himself.
Bel. jun. Hey-day! Is the man mad? Put up Bel. jun. And yet, perhaps, all this may pro- your sword, sir Benjamin; put it up, and don't ceed from an excess of fondness in my Sophia. expose yourself in this manner.
Sir Ben. Upon my word you are blest with a Sir Ben. You shall excuse me, air; I have had most happy assurance.
some difficulty in drawing it, and am determined Bel. jun. Something may have dropped from now to try what metal it's made of. So come Violetta to alarm her jealousy; and, working on, sir. upon the exquisite sensibility of her innocent Bel. jun. Really this is too ridiculous; I tell mind, may have brought my sincerity into ques you, sir Benjamin, I am in no humour for these tion.
follies. I've done no wrong to you or yours : on Sir Ben. I don't understand a word of all this. the contrary, great wrong has been done to me;
Bel. jun. Now could I fall at her feet for par- but I have no quarrel with you; so, pray, put up don, though I know not in what I have offended; your sword. I have not the heart to move. Fy upon it! Sir Ben. And I tell you, Mr Belfield, 'tis in What an arrant coward has love made me! vain to excuse yourself. The less readiness he
Sir Ben. A coward does he say? I am hearti- shews, so much the more resolution I feel. ly rejoiced to hear it: if I must needs come to
[Aside. action, pray Heaven it be with a coward ! I'll Bel. jun. Weli, sir knight, if such is your hueven take him while he is in the humour, formour, I won't spoil your longing. So have at fear he should recover his courage, and I lose you! mine. [Aside.] -So, sir, your humble servant,
Enter LADY Dove.
[Shrieks. Pray, what are your commands, now you have Bel jun. Hold, hold, sir Benjamin !' I never found me?
fight in ladies' company. Why, I protest you are Sir Ben. Hold! hold! don't come any nearer: a perfect Amadis de Gaul; a Don Quixotte in don't you see I am in a most prodigious passion ? | heroism; and the presence of this your
dulcinea Fire and fury! what's the reason you have made renders you invincible. all this disorder in my house? my daughter in Sir Ben. Oh! my lady, is it you? don't be tears; my wife in fits; every thing in an uproar; alarmed, my dear; 'tis all over : a small fracas and all your doing ! Do you think I'll put up between this gentleman and myself; that's all; with this treatment? If you suppose you have a don't be under any surprize; I believe the gentlecoward to deal with, you'll find yourself mista- man has had enough; I believe he is perfectly ken; greatly mistaken, let me tell you, sir! Mer- satisfied with my behaviour, and I persuade mycy upon me, what a passion I am in! In short, self you will have no cause for the future to Mr Belfield, the honour of my house is concern- complain of his. Mr Belfield, this is lady Dove. ed, and I must, and will have satisfaction. I Bel. jun. Madam, to a generous enemy, 'tis think this is pretty well to set out with. l'ın hor- mean to deny justice, or with-hold applause. ribly out of breath. I sweat at every pore. What You are happy in the most valiant of defenders
. great fatigues do inen of courage undergo ! Gentle as you may find him in the tender pas
Bel. jun. Look'e, sir Benjamin, I don't rightly sions, to a man, madain, he acquits himself like conprehend what you would be at; but, if you Sir Benjamin Dove, in justice to your think I have injured you, few words are best; merit, I am ready to make any submission to this disputes between men of honour are soon ad- lady you shall please to impose. If you suffer justed ; I'm at your service, in any way you think her to bully you after this, you deserve to be fit.
benpecked all the days of your life. [Aside. Sir Ben. How you Aly out now! Is that giving Sir Ben. Say no more, my dear Bob; I shall me the satisfaction I require? I am the person love you for this the longest hour I have to live.
Bel. jun. If I have done you any service, pro- | is here ! Egad, I'm very glad on't-I've no no mise me only one hour's conversation with your tion of a female administration.
[Erit. lovely daughter, and make what use of me you Lady Dode. What insolence is this, sir Benjaplease.
min? what ribaldry do you shock my ears with? Sir Ben. Here's my hand, you shall have it; Let me pass, sir; I'll stay no longer in the same leave us.
[Exit Bel. jun. room with you. Lady Dove. What am I to think of all this? Sir Ben. Not in the same room, nor under the It can't well be a contrivance; and yet 'tis strange, same roof, shall you long abide, unless you rethat yon little animal should have the assurance form your manners. However, for the present, to face a man, and be so bashful at a rencounter you must be content to stay where you are. with a woman.
Lady Dove. What, sir ! will you imprison me Sir Ben. Well, lady Dove, what are you mu- | in my own house? I'm sick; I'm ill; I'm suffo sing upon you see you are obeyed; the honour cated; I want air; I must and will walk into the of your family is vindicated. Slow to enter into garden. these affairs; being once engaged, I pertinaciously Sir Ben. Then, madam, you must find some conduct them to an issue.
better weapon than your fan to parry my sword Lady Dove. Sir Benjamin- -I- -- with : this
I defend : what! do'st think, afSir Ben. Here, Jonathan ! do you hear? set ter having encountered a man, I shall turn my my things ready in the library; make haste. back upon a woman? No, madam; I have recLady Done. I say, sir Benjamin, I think- tured my life to defend your honour; 'twould be Sir Ben. Well, let's hear what it is you think. hard if I wanted spirit to protect my own.
Lady Dove. Bloss us all, why you snap one up Lady Dove. You monster! would 80—I say, I think, my dear, you have acquitted your sword upon a woman? yourself tolerably well, and I am perfectly satis- Sir Ben. Unless it has been your pleasure to fied.
make me a monster, madam, I am none. Sir Ben. Humph! you think I have done to- Lady Dove. Would you murder me, you inhulerably well? I think so too; do you apprehend man brute? Would you murder your poor, fond, me? Tolerably! for this business that you think defenceless wife? tolerably well done, is but half concluded, let me Sir Ben. Nor tears, nor threats, neither scoldtell you : nay, what some would call the toughest ing, nor soothing, shall shake me from my pur, part of the undertaking remains unfinished; but, pose : your yoke, lady Dove, has laid too heavy i dare say, with your concurrence, I shall find it upon my shoulders; I can support it no longer easy enough.
to-morrow, madam, you leave this house. Lady Dove. What is it you mean to do with Lady Dove. Will you break my heart, you trmy concurrence; what mighty project does your rant? Will you turn me out of doors to starve, wise brain teem with ?
you barbarous man? Sir Ben. Nay, now I reflect on't again, I don't Sir Ben. Oh! never fear; you will fare to the think there will be any need of your concurrence; full as well as you did in your first husband's for, nolens or volens, I'm determined it shall be time; in your poor, dear, dead, Mr Searcher's done. In short, this it is; I am unalterably re- time. You told me once you prized the paltry solved, from this time forward, lady Dove, to be grey-hound that hung at his button-hole, ‘more sole and absolute in this house, master of my than all the jewels my folly had lavished upon own servants, father to my own child, and sove you. I take you at your word. You shall have reign lord and governor, madam, over my own your bawble, and I will take back all mine ; wife.
they'll be of no use to you hereafter. Lady Dove. You are?
Lady Dove. O! sir Benjamin, sir Benjamin! Sir Ben. I am. Gods! gods! what a pitiful for mercy's sake, turn me not out of your doors! contemptible figure does a man make under pet- I will be obedient, gentle, and complying, for the ticoat government! Perish he that's mean enough future; don't shame me; on my knees, i beseech to stoop to such indignities! I am determined to you don't. be free
Enter BELFIELD senior. Paterson enters, and whispers Lady Dove.
Sir Ben. Mr Belfield, I am heartily glad to see
you; don't go back, sir; you catch us indeed a Ha! how's this, Mr Paterson? What liberties little unawares; but these situations are not upare these you take with my wife, and before any common in well-ordered families. Rewards and face? no more of these freedoms, I beseech you, punishments are the life of government; and the sir, as you expect to answer it to a husband, who authority of a husband must be upheld. will have no secrets whispered to his wife, to Bel. sen. I conless, sir Benjamin, I was greatly which he is not privy; nor any appointments surprised at finding lady Dove in that attitude: made, in which he is not a party.
but I never pry into family secrets; I had much Pat. Hey-day! what a change of government rather suppose your lady was on her knees to in
tercede with you or my behalf, than be told she Bel. sen. Come, sir Benjamin, I must speak to was reduced to that humble posture for any rea- you now as a friend in the nearest connexion. I son that affects herself.
beg you will not damp our happiness with so meSir Ben. Sir, you are free to suppose what you lancholy an event: I will venture to pledge myplease for lady Dove; I'm willing to spare you self for her ladyship. that trouble on my account; and therefore, I tell Sir Ben. Well, for your sake, perhaps I may you plainly, if you will sign and seal your articles prolong her departure for one day; but I'm dethis night, to-morrow morning Sophia shall be termined, if she does stay to-morrow, she shall yours : I'm resolved, that the self-same day which set the first dish upon the table; if 'tis only to consecrates the redemption of my liberty, shall shew the company what a refractory wife, in the confirm the surrender of yours.
hands of a man of spirit, may be brought to subLady Dove. O! Mr Belfield, I beseech you, mit to. Our wives, Mr Belfield, may teaze us, intercede with this dear, cruel man, in my behalf! and vex us, and still escape with impunity ; but would you believe, that he harbours a design of if once they thoroughly provoke us, the charm expelling me his house, on the very day, too, breaks, and they are lost for ever. when he purposes celebrating the nuptials of his
SCENE I.-- The sea-coast, as before. the man I took you for, and cannot discommend
your caution; so that, if you like my daughter, Enter GOODWIN and FANNY.
and Fanny is consenting—But, soft! who have Good. What you tell me, Fanny, gives me
we got here? great concern; that Mr Francis should think to Fran. I wish Mr Paterson was further for inseduce the innocence of my child for a paltry terrupting us just now. bribe! what can have passed to encourage him
Enter PaTERSON. to put such an affront upon you?
Fan. Till this proposal, which I tell you of, I Pat. Pray, good people, isn't there a lady with always took Mr Francis for one of the best be- you of the name of Violetta ? haved, modestest young men, I had ever met with, Good. There is.
Good. To say the truth, Fanny, so did I; but Pat. Can you direct me to her? I have busithe world is full of hypocrisy, and our acquaint- ness with her of the utmost consequence. ance with him has been
Good. Fanny, you and Mr Francis step in and
let the lady know. Enter FRANCIS.
[Exeunt Fanny and FRANCIS. Hark'e, young man, a word with you! What is it If its no offence, Mr Paterson, allow me I or my children have done to offend you? to ask you, whether there is any hope of our
Fran. Offend me! what is it you mean? young gentleman here, who is just returned, suc
Good. When your vessel was stranded upon ceeding in his addresses to Miss Dove? our coast, did we take advantage of your dis- Pat. Certainly none, Mr Goodwin, tress? On the contrary, was’nt this poor hut Good. I'm heartily sorry for it. thrown open to your use, as a receptacle for your Pat. I find you are a stranger to the reasons treasures, and a repose for your fatigues? Have which make against it: but how are you interesteither those treasures, or that repose, been in- ed in his success? vaded? Whom amongst you have we robbed or Good. I am a witness of his virtues, and condefrauded ?
sequently not indifferent to his success. Fran. None, none- - your honesty has been as
[Erit Goodwin. conspicuous as your hospitality.
Enter VIOLETTA. Good. Why, then, having received no injury, do you seek to do one? an injury of the basest Pat. Madam, I presume your name is Vionature-You see, there, a poor girl, whose only letta? portion in this world is her innocence, and of Vio. It is, sir. that you have sought to
Pat. I wait upon you, madam, at Miss Dove's Fran. Hold-nor impute designs to me which desire, and as a particular friend of Mr Andrew I abhor. You say your daughter has no portion Belfield's. but her innocence-assured of that, I ask none Vio. Sir! else; and, if she can forgive the stratagem I
Pat. Madam! have made use of, I am ready to atone for it by Vio. Pray, proceed. a life devoted to her service.
Pat. To intreat the favour of your company Good. Well, sir, I am happy to find you are at Cropley-castle upon business, wherein that lady and gentlemen are intimately concerned : / much of, and married to Mr Belfield ! base and I presume, madam, you guess what I mean? perfidious - Why, madam, both Miss Dove and
Vio. Indeed, sir, 1 cannot easily guess how I myself conceived that 'twas the young advencan possibly be a party in any business between turer, with whom you suffered shipwreck, thatMiss Dore and Mr Belfield. I thought all inter- Vio. What! Lewson, the brave, generous, bocourse between those persons was now entirely at nourable Lewson? an end.
Pat. Lewson ! Lewson! as sure as can be, Pat, Oh! no, madam; by no means; the af- you mean young Belfeld; for now, the recollecfair is far from being at an end.
tion strikes me, that I've heard he took that Vio. How, sir, not at an end ?
name before he quitted England. That Lewson, Pat. No, madam-on the contrary, from sir madam, whom we believed you married to, is Benjamin's great anxiety for the match, and, Robert Belfield, and younger brother to your above all, from the very seasonable intelligence husband. you was so good to cominunicate to Miss Sophia, Vio. Mercy defend me! into what distress I am not without hopes that Mr Andrew Bel- had this mutual mistake nearly involved us! field will be happy enough to conquer all her Pat. Come, then, madam, let us lose no time, scruples, and engage her to consent to marry him. but fly with all dispatch to Cropley-castle. I
Vio. Indeed ! but pray, sir, those scruples of have a post-chaise waiting, which will couvey us Miss Dove's, which you flatter yourself Mr Bel- thither in a few minutes : but, before we go, I'll field will so happily conquer, how is it that ladies step in and direct these good people to find in this country reconcile themselves to such mat- young Belfield, and send him after us-Old ters? I should have thought such an obstacle ut-Ironsides and all must be there. terly insurmountable.
[Erit PatersOX. Pat. Why, to be sure, madam, Miss Dove has Vio. Let me reflect upon my fate---Wedded, had some doubts and difficulties to contend with betrayed, abandoned ! at once a widow and a but duty, you know-and, as I said before, wife-all that my soul held dear, in the same you, madam, you have been a great friend to hour obtained and lost! O false, false Beltield ! Mr Belfield—you have forwarded matters sur-Strong, indeed, must be that passion, and deeply prisingly.
seated in my heart, which even thy treachery Vio. It is very surprising, truly, if I have. could not eradicate! Twice shipwrecked ! twice
Pat. You seem greatly staggered at what I rescued from the jaws of death! - Just Heaven! tell you : I see you are a stranger to the prin- I do not, dare not murmur, nor can I doubt but ciples upon which young ladies frequently act in that thy hand invisibly is stretched forth to save this country. I believe, madam, in England, as me, and, through this labyrinth of sorrow, to conmany, or more, matches are made from pique, duct me to repose. than for love; and, to say the truth, I take this of Miss Dove's to be one of that sort. There is
Enter PatersGN. a certain person, you know, who will feel upon Pat. Now, madam, if you will trust yourself this occasion.
to my convoy, I'll bring you into harbour, wbere Vio. Yes; I well know there is a certain per- you shall never suffer shipwreck more. (Ereunt. son, who will feel upon this occasion; but, are the sufferings of that unhappy one to be convert- SCENE II.-SIR BENJAMIN Dove's house. ed into raillery and amusement? Pat. Oh! Madam! the ladies will tell you,
Enter Sir BENJAMIN Dove and LADY DOVE. that therein consists the very luxury of revenge Sir Ben. Upon these terms and stipulations,
But, I beseech you, have the goodness to lady Dove, 1 consent to your remaining at Crop make haste: my friend Mr Belfield may stand ley castle. Enjoy you your own prerogative, and in need of your support.
leave me in possession of mine. Above all things, Vio. Thus insulted, I can contain myself no my dear, I must insist, that Mr Paterson be longer. Upon what infernal shore am I cast! henceforward considered as my friend and cominto what society of demons am I fallen! that a panion, and not your ladyship's. woman, whom, by an act of honour, I would have Lady Dove. Nay, but indeed and indeed, my redeemed from misery and ruin, should have the dear sir Benjamin, this is being too hard with me, insolence, the inhumanity, to invite me to be to debar me the common gratifications of every a spectatress of her marriage with my own woman of distinction : Mr Paterson, you know, husband!
is my very particular friend. Pat. With your husband! What do I hear? Sir Ben.' 'Tis for his being so very particular, Is Mr Andrew Belfield your husband ?
my dear, that I object to him. Via. Ay-do you doubt it? Would I could
say Lady Dove. Friendship, sir Benjamin, is the he was not!
virtuous recreation of delicate and susceptible Pat. Just Heaven! you then are the Violetta minds_Would you envy me that innocent plea---you are the Portuguese lady I have heard so sure? Why, you know, my dearest, that your